#wd22

I was worried about the same practice with the used engine we replaced our Xterra’s dead engine with. Its former shell, a carcass of a Solar Yellow 2002 Xterra whose front engine collisions happened so suddenly, the exhaust manifold cracked on either side of the 3.3-liter V-6. Whatever hit it, was big and fast. My wallet on the other hand, especially during this debacle, was also reaching excessive speeds, but was ever-shrinking. This engine needed to work, and if it didn’t, I might as start working on getting a second job.

It’s first oil change was scary. It was similar to an experience I had in college, where beer bottles in the dorm didn’t signify whatever was in that bottle was beer. It could be warm beer, cold beer, or in once instance a suspiciously pale, pale ale that for a reason still a mystery today, was just a dark glass of urine. I’m not drinking to that ever again.

The oil was black, especially for an engine that had only seen roughly 50 miles of use. What wasn’t as black, was the creamy grey color of some sort of moisture that also came out of both the oil filter and the oil pan. Slithering around the drain pan like a snake, ready to snatch grocery money from the innocent, to pay for head gaskets, or worse, cylinder heads. Only to shed it’s skin later, elsewhere under the hood, and slide toward the truck’s next weakest point. Which to be honest, could be anywhere. Even the new rear hatch struts I bought from RockAuto couldn’t hold the tailgate up now that there’s a ladder on it.

Was this coolant? Or was this just moisture from an engine that was once left for dead in the back-40 of Uncle Earl’s Chop Shop and sometimes Medicinal Green Plant Boutique? I needed another oil change to find out. And to be honest, I wanted to drive home, then drive back to work and drain it just to find out, but that really wouldn’t tell me much. As I began driving the truck each day again to and from work, without any trips lasting longer than 30 minutes, it really sank in how far this truck has come. 

Maia and I put the engine in ourselves and wrestled with all kinds of exhaust manifold issues,. Several times we played with the idea of maybe it’s time to call it quits on this pile. But here we are now, driving it back to life from the dead. While it was down, an Xterra Facebook page we had joined started to sing familiarity, as other Xterras began to drop throughout the community. I’m not big on conspiracy theories, but like my cousin who doesn’t think climate change is real but is convinced chemtrails are, I was certain this was all Obama’s fault in some way, and just like my grandmother, we too would soon end up in an internment camp for the New World Order. Because under the tinfoil hats, aren’t we all lizard people?

To be fair though it was the largest, oil wasn’t the only concern. The truck still had a bad steering box, whose dripping power steering system has long been 100% Lucas Powersteering StopLeak. The Doug Thorley ceramic-coated headers now positioned the rest of the exhaust in such a way the tailpipe rattles against the receiver, so during redlights it sounds like some drunken clown is just constantly dropping joke pots and pans. The steering wheel pulled to the right during moderate braking. This of course turned into a dangerous dance of correction under heavy or sudden braking. The best I could do was replace the front brake hoses, the seized caliper, and cut the tailpipe off to clamp on a shorter dropdown that would move it away from the receiver. Some problems solved. Others forgotten or not yet found.

After a few weeks of driving, which butted up to the day before our debut weekend winter-camping trip, it was time to inspect the oil again. This time brought heart-warming results. It was still incredibly dark, but no moisture contamination! It was seriously fantastic news.

Although I don’t carry much confidence with me into this truck, part of what little love I do have for it returned that evening. The next morning, we packed the truck full of camping gear and journeyed north into the snowflakes to camp along the AuSable river.